


Wake Up and Smell the Black Alchemy

by misura



Category: Gentleman Bastard Sequence - Scott Lynch
Genre: M/M, Morning After, Something Made Them Do It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-11 23:10:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11724525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: In which Locke is forced to take steps in order to improve his morning.





	Wake Up and Smell the Black Alchemy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DachOsmin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DachOsmin/gifts).



Locke woke to the realization of two things, the first of which was that he appeared to have been well and truly fucked. The second and possibly more pressing one was that he also appeared to be in the process of being slowly crushed to death.

In the larger scheme of things, impending death seemed a slightly more urgent matter than any concerns regarding the dubious existence of his virtue; as such, a likely course of action presented itself almost immediately.

"Jean!" Possibly, pronouncing the name of the heavy object in question might have sufficed to persuade it to shift its weight. Locke decided to take no chances, though, adding a weak slap in the face for emphasis, reasoning that the odds of this improving his situation were far superior to the chances of Jean taking offense.

Besides, based on Locke's admittedly vague recollections of the night before, Jean bore at least a third of the responsibility for what had occurred the night before. Slapping him in the face was, therefore, both practical and perfectly justified.

Unfortunately, in spite of this, it did not seem to have produced any result.

"Jean!" There was a certain risk attached to getting too loud. Then again, there was a sure danger attached to remaining stuck under Jean's lifeless body for too long a time.

Discovery in and of itself might prove embarrassing, but not fatal.

"They're having a sale at the bookstore, and you're missing out on some prime bargains."

The main danger at this moment was, simply put, boredom. Returning to his previous state of happy, ignorant slumber not being an option, Locke knew himself prone to thoughts. To making plans and hatching plots. Revenge was a strong temptation, but also, he rationally knew, a doomed enterprise.

"Jean! I swear, if you don't open up your eyes right this instant, I'll - "

Jean opened his eyes. He closed them again almost immediately.

Locke weighed the virtues and personal satisfaction of another slap against the risks inherent in using physical violence against a conscious Jean. He decided to limit himself to verbal communication.

"Jean!"

"No," Jean mumbled, which struck Locke as a rather nonsensical reply until Jean added, "Ask the twins, if you're that bent on having another go. I'm done. In fact, I'm more than done. For the next six hours, consider me dead and enjoying my final rest."

"Fine! Just, do you think that maybe you could play a corpse someplace other than right on top of me? Call me eccentric, but I sort of like being able to feel all my limbs."

"Oh!" Jean's eyes opened again. "I - sorry."

"For what?" Until all of half a second ago, Locke had felt justifiably annoyed. To have Jean take that feeling away from him simply by virtue of appearing to be blushing with an air of acute embarrassment did not improve his mood. "If you want to blame anyone, blame the twins. Or the black alchemists."

Locke had not previously been able to turn his head sufficiently far to be sure of the state of the other two occupants of the room. He had assumed them still safely asleep, mostly by virtue of their not talking.

Either his and Jean's conversation had woken them, or the twins were capable of more restraint than Locke had previously imagined.

"Blame Mistress Jessaline and her delightful daughter for supplying a product working exactly as advertised? What's next, blaming Jean for being strong?" said Calo.

"Blaming the two of us for being charming and handsome?" said Galdo. "To say nothing of having the stamina to satisfy even the most demanding of our many admirers."

Jean's weight shifted abruptly before vanishing entirely. Locke spent a few brief moments dreaming of his having gone to apply his fists to the twins' faces, before he realized that Jean had gone to check on the innocent-looking candle on the table in the middle of the room.

"Burnt down completely," Jean reported, to Locke's relief.

"I told you we should have doused it after an hour," said Calo. "But no, _someone_ was too busy to bother. Just think, we could have gotten three more uses out of it."

Jean had not bothered to put on his clothes when he had risen. Locke had seen him before, anyway - with some disguises, a second or even third pair of hands to help when dressing was nearly a requirement. What had happened between them (well, between him and Jean and Calo and Galdo) last night ought not to have changed anything. Locke might not share the twins' appetite for such things, nor the experience they had acquired as a result of that appetite, but he was not such an innocent that he mistook sex for something inextricably linked to other, deeper emotions, such as the ones he experienced when considering Sabetha.

"Then again, it does appear to have served its purpose most admirably," said Galdo.

Both of them were looking at Locke, grinning. Jean's expression was slightly harder to read, his eyes on Locke's face rather than on a part of his anatomy considerably lower.

Locke was surprised to find himself tempted. He knew that this particular decision would be his alone to make; it was not as it had been last night, where it was understood that while 'stop' meant 'stop' and 'no' meant 'no', a failure to disagree by default equalled full and whole-hearted agreement.

(He'd said 'no' only once, when Jean had tried to pull away, to give up his place to the twins. It had been a snap decision, based on everything he knew about Jean and everything he knew about himself and the twins - if given a chance, Jean would always be the one to make the sacrifice, to pay the price for the rest of them, to position himself where he might protect and observe.)

"Locke. Want me to open up a window, let in some air? Maybe see about some breakfast?"

 _What about what_ you _want, Jean?_ Some of the candle's effects might still be lingering, or so he could tell himself, if he told Jean to leave the window closed. It might even be true, for all that Locke preferred a believable, well-constructed lie over an unlikely truth any hour of the day.

"Your offer to cook this morning has been noted and accepted by a majority vote," said Locke. "Your suggestion that you might nobly piss off and go read a fucking book while the three of us are actually enjoying ourselves warrants a bit more discussion, I think."

Jean flushed with anger rather than embarrassment this time, which made it easier.

"What, we were good enough company for you last night but not this morning? If that's what it is, fine. I mean, it hurts my feelings that you'd lump me in with those two, but if that's the way you want it, that's the way you can get it. I've got better things to do than waste my time sucking some gutless prick's cock."

Calo cleared his throat. "Would now be a good time to step in and point out that if you were to join us, there'd be three of us and only one of Locke?"

"Alternately," added Galdo, "we'd be perfectly happy to be the ones joining you."

"For whatever activity you were considering engaging in."

Locke offered Jean a cheerful, careless grin. "They're really not that bad once you get to know them."

Jean shook his head and chuckled. "Liar."

"And Locke would, in fact, be delighted to suck all of our cocks, without any expectations of having the favor returned, even."

"Liar," said Locke.

"I think my brother's occasional crude language really springs from his feelings of inferiority due to being so much less well-endowed in certain areas. All the girls we meet seem to prefer me over him, at least once they've seen us both naked."

"Liar," said Calo.

"If we're going to do this, I'm withdrawing my offer to cook breakfast. One of you can take care of it."

"Bastard."

 

(" _Again_?" Locke complained. "What is it with people insisting on using me for a fucking pillow?")

("Size, I guess," said Calo, shrugging. "Besides, if we tried this with Jean, he'd probably hurt us.")

("You might try considering it a compliment. You're really very comfortable.")


End file.
